Too Wilde to Tame (4 page)

As soon as she touched him, his muscles flexed beneath her palms and his breathing hitched. She felt the heat of him through his shirt, along with the way his heartbeat accelerated.

She held back a secret female smile. Oh, he was far, far from immune to her. Just as she was certain he'd been far from indifferent to her dancing up on that stage a while ago.

She decided to call him on it.

"Awww, come on, sugar," she said in a breathy voice as her fingers brushed over his nipples, which were as hard as her own. "Watching me in that wet T-shirt didn't turn you on, not even a little bit?"

"Nope." He sounded very sure of himself.

She didn't believe his adamant denial. Not for a second. "You're such a liar, Cameron," she said and set out to prove it. With her gaze holding his, she skimmed a hand down his torso, past the waistband of his jeans and lower… until she held the most masculine part of him in her hand. He released a hiss of breath, and satisfaction curled through her when she found him already aroused, the firm length of him impressive in size.

He was definitely more than a handful. Desire curled low and deep in her belly at the heady thought of that aggressive male flesh filling her in all the different ways she'd imagined and fantasized about over the past few months.

Satisfied with the evidence she'd discovered, she let a sultry smile emerge. "Unless this is a very thick sock stuffed in your pants, I'd have to say you are a little bit turned on."

A strangled sound erupted from his throat, and he yanked her hand away, as if her touch had the ability to burn. His fingers circled her wrist, and his thumb pressed against the rapid pulse beating there. "That smart mouth of yours is going to get you into big trouble one day, sweetheart."

"Promises, promises," she taunted softly, which earned her a warning look from him that did nothing to quell her shameless approach. "Actually, it's nice to see I can get a rise out of you after all."

The double entendre wasn't lost on him, and for a moment it looked as though he was going to say something in response to her comment. Then he shook his head as if to clear it, causing the dim lights in the hall to cast intriguing golden highlights through his soft-looking strands of hair.

"Give me your car keys."

She blinked at him, thrown by his abrupt request. "I didn't drive. I came with Carrie."

"Even better." He ignored the two young college girls who turned down the hallway, whispering and giggling as they passed them on their way to the women's room. "Where's your purse?"

"I didn't bring one." She had her money, apartment key, and lipstick in the small pouch clipped to the waistband of her skirt.

"Good. One less thing to worry about." He tightened his grip on her arm. "Let's go," he said and started back down the corridor toward the bar area, with her in tow.

The wet T-shirt contest was over, but the place seemed even more packed than before and twice as rowdy. The music was loud, and Mia actually had a difficult time keeping up with Cameron as he made his way through the crowd. He stopped at the table her roommate, Gina, had claimed earlier, and Carrie was there, sitting alone and nursing a drink.

"Mia won't be needing a ride back to her place," Cameron said to her. "I'll be sure she gets home safely."

Carrie shrugged indifferently as she swirled her straw through her drink. "Okay."

Mia wasn't in the habit of leaving nightclubs with strangers, and she felt compelled to explain who Cameron was so Carrie didn't think she was about to indulge in a one-night stand with someone she didn't know.

Keeping up the pretense of being intoxicated, she leaned into Cameron and patted him on the, chest in a placating way. "He's a friend of the family and seems to have this need to play my white knight tonight." She rolled her eyes at that notion.

Carrie's stare was distant, her demeanor standoffish. "Lucky you."

The sarcasm lacing Carrie's tone took Mia off guard. Her friend had been acting oddly toward her all evening, but before Mia could ask Carrie what was wrong, Cameron was pulling her along again, seemingly eager to get out of the place. With his fingers still locked around her wrist, she had no choice but to follow as he wended his way through the mass of people filling the establishment.

"Mia!"

Hearing someone shout her name, she craned her neck around and saw Gina trying to make her way toward them, a worried look on her face. No doubt her roommate was wondering where she was going… and with whom.

"I'm fine, promise." She mouthed the words to Gina because she knew her voice wouldn't reach her over the loud music and gave her an "okay" sign, but her friend seemed insistent on reaching her… until her boyfriend, Ray, grabbed her arm and jerked her back.

The physical command was rough enough to make Gina wince in pain. Ray said something to her friend, his expression harsh, and Gina seemed to shrink back from him.

Mia had come to the conclusion very quickly that Ray was extremely dominating and possessive when it came to Gina, which contradicted Ray's own roving eye and womanizing ways. But the few times Mia had tried to talk to Gina about Ray and how he treated her, her friend promptly dismissed her concerns and assured her she was just fine. Mia was left with no choice but to believe her friend knew what was best and could take care of herself.

What Mia didn't have the heart to tell Gina was the fact that Ray had even made a major move on her. She'd immediately made it very clear to Ray she wouldn't tolerate his hands-on approach or his licentious behavior. He'd instantly backed off, insisting it was all a joke, but she hadn't even been slightly amused by the lustful look in his eyes as he'd raked her body over with his gaze.

The entire incident had left a bad taste in her mouth when it came to Ray. She didn't like the man, or trust him—around herself or Gina. But her roommate wasn't willing to hear the truth about her boyfriend and made excuses for his conduct, so Mia knew there was nothing much she could do. Ultimately, it was up to Gina to face the truth and realize what a jerk Ray truly was.

Mia just hoped Gina didn't get hurt in the meantime—emotionally or physically.

Because she was paying more attention to Gina than to where she was going and was just blindly following Cameron's pull on her arm, Mia bumped hard into someone, who turned and glared at her for not watching where she was going. The impact made Mia lose her balance, and she wobbled on her heels to keep from ending up sprawled on the floor. Cameron, obviously realizing what had happened, came to an abrupt stop, and Mia collided into his hard, unyielding body and then bounced right off—sending her stumbling all over again.

She was beginning to feel like one of those steel balls in a pinball game, ricocheting from one obstacle to another. A bit dazed from the jostling, she swayed dizzily into Cameron, and luckily he caught her in his arms. She clung to him like the helpless female he was under the impression she was tonight.

He frowned down at her, and the muscle that ticked in his cheek was a good indication his tolerance level with her was quickly evaporating. "Since you don't seem capable of walking out of here on your own without making a scene, I guess I'm going to have to take over from here."

Before she realized his intent, he bent low and hefted her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Shock rendered her momentarily speechless as he locked an arm around her thighs and made his way toward the exit. She was grateful he had the good sense to hold down the hem of her short skirt, or else she would have been mooning the crowd.

Any other time she would have protested, loudly, to his arrogant, sexist display, but considering her decision to have fun at Cameron's expense, she just settled in for the free ride, which included an outstanding view of his backside.

Cameron passed the bouncers at the front entrance with a quick explanation of the situation. They were obviously thankful for his interference so they didn't have to deal with an intoxicated customer themselves.

As he crossed through the parking lot, she took advantage of her position and admired Cameron's very attractive assets. With bold, shameless daring, she caressed her hands over his firm buttocks, gave them an affectionate squeeze, and sighed in adoration.

"Ummm, you have a really nice ass, sugar," she drawled.

His fingers tightened on her bare thigh, making her very aware of just how intimate his touch was on her body. "Knock off the touchy-feely stuff before I smack yours," he growled as he unlocked the passenger door of his car with his free hand.

"Ooohh," she cooed breathlessly. "Don't tell me you're into kinky stuff like spanking. Because I've been a very, very naughty girl…"

With a sudden, jarring jolt, she found herself back on her feet again and staring into the heated depths of his gaze. "I'm not going to touch that one," he said, though he definitely looked tempted. Instead, he opened the door to his metallic blue Porsche Boxster and motioned for her to get inside. "Get in the car."

Without argument, she slid into the low-slung vehicle and was instantly enveloped in the soft, luxurious leather seat. Cameron quickly and efficiently buckled her in, keeping any contact with her to a minimum, and then headed around to the driver's side.

When he was settled behind the wheel and the key was in the ignition, he cast her a speculative glance tinged with wry humor. "I'm beginning to think you ought to drink more often."

Amused by his comment and curious to hear his reasoning, she rested her head against the back of her seat and lifted a lazy brow his way. "And why's that?"

"Because it actually makes you more agreeable and manageable than I've ever seen you before." For the first time that night he actually smiled, and it was such an amazing and sexy sight to witness. "Normally, you would have fought me the entire way out of the bar."

Manageable. She nearly laughed at that description, because it was a word she would never associate with her personality. Being meek and mild wasn't a part of her nature—intoxicated or not—but she'd let him think that for now because he seemed to be enjoying her more docile side. He'd discover soon enough that it was all an act.

And just so he didn't think she was becoming completely complacent, she decided to throw a major wrench in his plans. "So… what makes you think I'm going to stay at home once you drop me off?"

He was silent for a moment as he contemplated the possibility. "You've got a point," he finally conceded. "I'm not willing to take that chance, so you can crash at my place tonight, where I can keep an eye on you."

Seemingly satisfied with the way he'd solved that particular problem, he turned the key in the ignition. The high-dollar sports car came to life with a low, rumbling purr that sent delicious vibrations rippling along Mia's spine.

Closing her eyes, she let out a soft sigh and thought about the intriguing opportunity that had just presented itself—not to mention all the provocative, seductive ways this night might end.

For months they'd evaded the lust and desire building between them, and she was beyond ready to let their escalating attraction take its natural course. Even if that meant being the one to lead Cameron down the path to temptation.

She smiled to herself as Cameron navigated the Porsche toward his place. Oh, yeah, the real fun was just about to begin.

TWENTY minutes later, Cameron pulled into the driveway leading to his house, which was located at the end of a cul-de-sac in a well-kept neighborhood just outside Chicago. He pressed the remote for the garage door, and once it rolled opened, he parked his Porsche inside and cut the engine.

He glanced over at Mia, who'd remained uncharacteristically quiet on the drive over. There could be only one reason for that, because it wasn't often that Mia was silent by choice: she must have given in to drunken exhaustion and had fallen asleep. Her eyes were closed, her breathing deep and even, and she looked very relaxed against the soft leather seat, though he could only imagine how uncomfortable and cold she must be in the damp T-shirt she was still wearing.

It was so odd seeing Mia this way—so calm and compliant. He was still amazed she hadn't put up a fight when he'd carried her out of The Electric Blue, which was so unlike her. He was used to dealing with a feisty, impetuous woman—like when she'd pressed her hand against his cock in the bar's back hallway.

He swallowed back a groan. Just remembering how she'd brazenly stroked and squeezed his shaft through the tight denim confining his erection made him hard all over again. Such a predictable and unwelcome response when it came to Mia, yet he couldn't stop wanting her, no matter how hard he tried. There was no blocking the lust that kicked up his adrenaline whenever she was near. No shutting out the recurring fantasy he had of burying himself deep inside her soft, lush body and hearing his name on her lips when she came.

He shook his head hard to dispel that erotic image. God, this woman was going to be the death of him, he was certain. No doubt he was going to expire from the excruciating, all-consuming sexual tension driving him slowly insane.

She stirred against the seat and then her lashes slowly drifted open, revealing her smoky gray eyes that looked soft and dreamy. "Hi," she said, a slight rasp to her voice.

"Hi, yourself." He searched her face, wondering if she was still feeling tipsy, or worse, woozy from the drive. "Are you doing okay?"